Vampires Need Not...Apply ay-4

by Jean Mimi Pamfiloff

  Does that make you Gomez?

  Caray. Antonio shook it off and went back to the list. Joder. This wasn’t right. I cannot do these things. I cannot.

  You must, you idiot. There is no other choice. Especially given the timing of the accident. He couldn’t get that moment out of his mind, the way she’d touched his body and pressed herself to his back. Her heat, the sexual tension she created and then released with the mere stroke of her fingertips.

  Antonio shifted in his seat, recalling how she’d grazed the tip of his cock with her hand.

  He adjusted his throbbing erection and looked down at it. “Don’t you have something else to do?” He’d tried several times to relieve the ache himself, but that only made him think of Ixtab, which only made his cock harder.

  Shit. What was happening to him? First blind, then he’d died and turned into a vampire, and now he was addicted to this goddess—who, he might add, wore a very unattractive outfit to hide herself and might actually look like a gremlin. What else could possibly get in the way of fulfilling his destiny and opening the portal?

  How about killing Ixtab and immortal groveling?

  * * *

  “What. The. Hell!!” Ixtab exploded from the cenote, her brand-new body nude, dripping wet, and trembling with anger. She was tempted to go back to her realm just to torment the vampire—from there she could use the full array of her powers to rain a fury of hell on his immortal ass—but nothing felt more satisfying than delivering justice in person. And justice there would be. Because no one, and she meant no one, snubbed her out like that. She’d opened herself to him, showed him comfort, she’d worshipped his body! And what was his response? He killed her! A vampire actually knocked her block off.

  The cloudless evening sky burst with a round of violent thunder and rattled the jungle with its tremors.

  Ixtab scaled the deeply cracked wall of the slick, algae-covered cenote and balanced on the edge. She squeezed the stale water from her long dark hair while glaring at the squawking toucans above. “You think this is funny?” She looked out into the dark jungle. A hard wind whipped through the air. “This is war. And the vampire’s gonna pay.”

  Ixtab marched forward and tripped over something large, landing with a face-plant in the moist, leaf-covered dirt. She flipped on her bare bottom and sat up. There, in a standard grovel position with his face pointed toward the ground and arms extended straight forward, was a large man dressed in black leather pants and white tee. A lone shopping bag from Nordstrom sat on the ground to his side.

  Well, look what the undead cat dragged in. “Antoniooo,” she growled.

  “Yes, goddess. I have come to throw myself—” He paused and fumbled with a sheet of paper in his hand, sliding it under his face without lifting his head. “I throw myself at your mercy and ask your forgiveness. To atone for my grave error, I have brought you this gift of fresh clothing and have prepared to make the appropriate sacrifices and offerings.” He paused again and glanced at the paper. “Oh Divine One.”

  What the pita chips? Ixtab marched over and swiped the bag. “No peeking.” She slipped on the black dress—a nice little soft and stretchy cotton number that was straight all the way down and slightly formfitting—and a soft silk black veil that hit right beneath her chin. This was a definite upgrade from her usual punishing outfit reminiscent of a widowed Italian grandmother, straight from the back pew of the Godfather. But given the circumstances, she would wear the offering gladly. Better than traipsing around the jungle with her rear end hanging out. Although she did have a fabulous rear. Stonehenge, after all, had been erected in its honor.

  Now, as for this unexpected display of groveling…

  “What gives, vampire?”

  “What do you mean, Oh Divine One?” he asked.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Get up. Tell me why you’re here and why I shouldn’t smash you into a thousand bits with my pinkie.” As if she could. Compared to the other gods or a vampire like Antonio, she was as physically strong as a chicken. With the flu.

  Antonio unfolded himself and rose to his feet, causing Ixtab to nearly fall off hers. In his snug black leather pants—oooh, triple stitching. Nice—and white tee stretching across his thick, muscular chest and upper arms, he looked like a god—only a very sexy version. Gods weren’t that sexy in her mind—too perfect. But Antonio’s towering height; deeply entrenched, raw masculinity; rolls of manly muscles; and hard, deep green eyes were more divine than any male walking the earth. Oh yes. If he were a deity, this man would have a pyramid built in his honor. Maybe two.

  She cleared her throat. “Had a little makeover, did you?”

  Antonio ran his large hand through his wild, short hair. “Penelope insisted I cut my hair on the way to the airport.” His icy gaze fixed on Ixtab’s breasts, which were prominently displayed via the low-cut neckline and snug fabric. “To please you,” he added with a deep voice that held a hint of an itch. An itch Ixtab wanted to scratch.

  Bahhh… Ixtab’s insides nearly liquefied.

  Wait, he killed you. And by now, all of your brethren will know about it—damn that Twitter. You will endure a good solid five hundred years of taunting after being taken down by a vampire’s elbow. Stupid, icky vampire! I will squash you for this!

  She didn’t know what stung more, the humiliation or his rejection.

  “You came all this way to show me your haircut and bring me a dress? ’Cause if you did, I can tell you right now, it’s not enough.” She raised her hand. What should it be? A hundred year fang-ache? Maybe burn off his arms with a concentrated dose of chili peppers? The arms would grow back. Eventually. And he didn’t really need them to complete his work on the tablet, now did he?

  “Whoa!” He held out his hands. “I came to perform the ritual of immortal groveling. That’s why I’m here.”

  Immortal groveling? Ugh. That was so last baktun. That stale, old ritual was Fate’s idea and entailed nothing more than sacrificing a large animal in the deity’s name, followed by a feast of the god’s favorite dishes. Ixtab didn’t even like meat. Unless you counted vampire ass as meat.

  “And in exchange for your forgiveness and leniency, I will…” Again he glanced at his paper.

  Ixtab swiped it from his hands and read the list.

  1. You will wash the goddess’s feet, rub them with essential oils, kiss her toes, and then paint them pink.

  2. At no time during the period of groveling, will you wear a shirt or call her by name. “Oh Divine One” shall be used.

  3. You will prepare her favorite dish, and when you serve her, you will walk only on your knees.

  4. You will write and recite a poem about the smallness and insignificance of your manhood while belly dancing with a sword balanced on your head.

  5. And finally, you will offer your body to the goddess for a night of pleasure.

  6. If by dawn you have not pleased her, you are to offer your pancreas.

  She could scarcely contain her laughter. This sounded like the groveling ritual Cimil had proposed way back—minus the clown flogging and unicorn rodeo. It had gotten Ixtab’s vote—minus the clown flogging—but Fate had convinced everyone to take the high road. Piff! Fate… such a goody-goody.

  “Who gave this sacred ritual to you?” Ixtab asked in her most serious voice.

  Antonio bowed his head. “Penelope and Kinich. They said if I did not come in person and do these”—he swallowed something sticking in his throat. Perhaps his pride?—“things, that you would unleash a global plague or famine.”

  Oh no. She had no intention of doing that. Not that she ever would. On purpose, anyway. Well, there’d be no accidental disasters today. Whatever public shame she would endure for being whacked by a lowly creature of the night would be well worth it; watching Antonio humiliate himself was going to be fun. Payback is such a… well, I’m not a bitch. But the argument has been made that I am cold, reckless, and deadly. Creadly? Yes, that’s it. Payback is a creadly.

  “I’ll th
ink about not smiting humanity. Now, get to the groveling!” she barked.

  Antonio bowed his head and gestured with his arm. “This way, Oh Divine One. I have a Jeep waiting for you down the path.”

  Ixtab smiled and sauntered past, but then her smiled turned to a frown. What would she do when he got to number five?

  Oh, Ixtab. What the hell are you talking about? He’s an icky vampire. As if he could ever tempt you.

  Yes. But he’s a sexy, icky vampire I can touch and who makes me… tingle. The urge to touch him was suddenly overwhelming. Maybe the joke was on her.

  Panic, fear, and anger set in. Panic, because she was in new territory. What if he really offered himself to her? She’d never been with anyone, and he was quite experienced. Fear, because she realized how much the idea pleased her. Anger, because any advance on his part would not be genuine. He’d been tricked into it, believing that having sex with her would avert a global catastrophe.

  Well, she wouldn’t accept his offer. She was too good to take a peace-offering sex handout from an icky vampire. She was a goddess. An ancient, immortal soul of divine origin. That’s right. She was like royalty of the Universe.

  Who really, really wants to be liked for being herself.

  You idiot! You sound like some mortal teenager pining for captain of the football team.

  She gave herself a mental flogging. It didn’t do the trick; she still wanted him. And wanted him to want her back.

  Oh, boy, I’m in trouble…

  Which meant so was he. Everyone knew Ixtab was bad news. Creadly…

  * * *

  Antonio felt uneasy. Extremely uneasy. At first, because he wasn’t sure what the deadly goddess might do to him. But then… he’d seen the goddess naked. He didn’t mean to look, but when she fell, he’d stolen a glance of her body—sleek, muscular, tanned, and curvy—laid out on the ground. Gods save him. At least he hadn’t seen her front. That ass was enough to push him over the edge of sanity. Smooth golden skin over two perfectly shaped mounds with a crease cutting across the tops of her back thighs, separating those silky legs from that blissful ass. Oh, gods, there was no way she could be a monster.

  Could she? Or had she lied about the reason she covered her face?

  Santa Maria. If only he hadn’t killed her, he would have seen what hid behind the curtain.

  Yes, coño, then you wouldn’t be with her now. And whether he liked to admit it or not, a tiny part of him felt insanely satisfied to be near her, the two of them alone, to see her alive and well and full of her usual piss and vinegar.

  Santos, the woman is death personified. He and death had a long, long history. The take away? Not the best of amigos. Nor would they ever be. Lately it seemed that fate had it out for him. First by making him a vampire, which he was determined to not let change who he fundamentally was at his innermost core and deter him from fulfilling his destiny, and then by tempting him with the female who not only killed, but also seemed to enjoy it on some level.

  Perhaps you are overthinking the situation. She does not reciprocate any sexual desires you have for her. Or, should I say, if she had any, that is now over.

  In fact, what started out as a very successful groveling ritual had turned down a dark, murky path filled with cobweb-covered potholes, rotting vegetation, and venomous snakes. Ixtab’s disposition, for no apparent reason, shifted from mild irritation to outright hostility the moment they got into the Jeep.

  The night now set upon them, he shifted gears into second and wound down the dirt road through thick, impenetrable jungle as the GPS instructed. He’d been told by Penelope that everything would be waiting for them upon their arrival. The Uchben had a garrison nearby and would see to it that the lakeside villa was cleaned, stocked, and ready for them.

  He pulled into the gravel driveway lined with tiki torches. Unable to drive any farther, Antonio turned off the engine, but didn’t dare look at the goddess in her tight black dress. Who knew how much longer his leather pants would hold? “Guess we’re here.”

  “Great. I love walking barefoot. If I’m lucky, I’ll find a nice juicy slug or scorpion to greet my toes.”

  Caray. He knew he’d forgotten something: her flip-flops. He’d left them on the plane. Ironically, she liked her flip-flops loud and sparkly. Who would have guessed?

  He turned off the headlights. “I planned to carry you, Oh Divine One,” he whispered. “Your feet”—which I’m about to scrub like a lowly servant—“should not touch the ground.”

  Ixtab turned his way. “Piggyback? You expect me to ride piggyback on an icky vampire?” she spat.

  This groveling crap was awful. An insult to every molecule of testosterone in his body. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d hurt her while she was rubbing the tip of his—

  He cleared his mind. Don’t think of it. Don’t think of it… His erection had finally abated, and gods only knew how long that would last.

  “Yes, Oh Divine One,” he replied. “You will ride me.” Christ. Did I really just say that? “I meant, piggyback, of course.”

  “Ugh! Fine.” She opened her door and turned away, waiting for him to pick her up from the passenger side.

  He exited the vehicle with a sigh, walked to her side, and turned his back to her. “Get on.”

  “Get on?”

  “Oh Divine One,” he added.

  First, he felt Ixtab’s hands clutch his shoulders. Next, her body slammed into his, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  He quickly braced himself against the Jeep and held back a lusty groan. Gods be damned, the sensation of this goddess touching his body was torture. And beyond any pleasure he’d ever known. The mere feel of her breasts pressed against his back was enough to make him bust his zipper again. Thank gods he wore his new leather pants with the triple stitch.

  “You okay, vampire?” Ixtab whispered in his ear with a breath that heated his lobe and shot right down to his shaft. “Or am I too much for you to handle?”

  He gave his head a little shake, righted himself, and stood straight. “No. Just fine, Oh Divine One.” He sucked in a lungful of restraint and marched down the torch-lit path, trying to think of anything but Ixtab’s body—her most intimate parts included—pushed against him. No, he would not think about the fact that her dress was hiked up well past her upper thighs and she wore no panties. He would not think about how her voluptuous breasts jiggled against his shoulder blades with each step or how the silky skin of her arms and legs rubbed against his new, overly sensitive vampire skin and filled him with a euphoria that could only be described as the world’s most addictive supernatural narcotic, which took away his hunger along with his darkest thoughts and filled him with strength.

  Oh, gods. He suddenly found himself fiercely desiring step number five—offering himself for a night of pleasure—which scared the hell out of him. For starters, Ixtab’s sister had said she was a monster. So what sort of face truly lay beneath that veil? If her lips were any indication, she had to be beautiful.

  But the sister hadn’t said, “She’s a little homely and might someday grow out of it.” No. She’d said, “monster,” which meant heinous. Repugnant. Shockingly ugly. Did Ixtab’s face reflect images of the thousands of souls she’d taken? Or perhaps her features were marred with a horrid disfigurement. Why else would she want to hide it? Surely shame wasn’t the real answer. Second, despite what his rock solid dick said, his heart knew what it felt. He believed in fate and having a destiny; his destiny was opening that portal. His destiny was… her—the woman from his dreams. He could feel it with every fiber of his being, and with each passing minute, he knew only holding her, saving her, taking away her pain would bring peace.

  To prove his point, Antonio closed his eyes for a moment and instantly heard her words filled with desperation, “The stars and the moon know I’m telling you the truth. Why won’t you listen, Antonio? Stay away from her…” Then those haunting eyes stared back at him from the walls of his eyelids.

 
His raging of lust instantly abated. That’s right, idiota. Now think about the weather—or… fucking stars and the moon! Whatever it takes to get on with this night, so you can continue your work.

  Whatever happened, he needed to ensure the goddess would not accept any offers of pleasure for the evening. Not that it should be a problem; she already thought of him as a despicable creature. She’d said so herself numerous times. Her earlier actions prior to the accident must have simply been one of her evil tricks intended to torture him. That’s right. She admitted she enjoyed watching others suffer, watching him suffer. She’d likely intended to work him into a sexual lather and then skip away. And he would not allow himself to fall for that trick again. No matter what his body said.

  “The place is an improvement over the New York winter weather, is it not, goddess?” He glanced up at the brilliant, starlit, tropical sky. Gorgeous. “Reminds me of the night with your sister.”

  She dug her heels into his sides like a rider spurring a belligerent horse.

  “Ow. What was that for?” he asked.

  “You spent the night with my sister?” she growled. “Which one? Fate?”

  She had a sore spot for her sister, did she? He made a mental note—could come in handy later. “Your sister Cimil, actually. We spent a very… interesting evening in Mexico together when I found the tablet.” Yes, it had been interesting. And by interesting, he meant disturbing. She continually rambled on and on about the understated joy of treasure hunting at garage sales. Then she froze in midsentence and made little circles with her hips as if spinning an invisible Hula-Hoop. He juddered.

  “Oh. Cimil.” Ixtab’s killer heel grip relaxed.

  Apparently she didn’t see Cimil as a threat. Another mental note.

  After several minutes of marching down the narrow path lined with thick-leaved plants and small torches, they arrived at an arched entryway with a wrought iron gate. He set the goddess down and tried to ignore how she felt when she slid down his back.

  He pulled out his sheet of paper and punched in the code. The gate unlatched, and he pushed. Inside was a lush garden, spacious courtyard with an illuminated fountain, small fire pit, and soft music playing—Spanish guitar—from hidden speakers. He approached the elaborate stained glass front door and entered. It reminded him of his family’s beach home back in Spain. Warm sandstone-colored tile, wide-open living room leading out to what appeared to be a long torch-lit dock, and an indoor fire pit in the middle of the room with a giant stainless steel extractor. The muggy tropical air wasn’t the least bit cold, but the fire looked warm and inviting nonetheless.